


Snapbacks and Snapchats

by acemockingjay, giwp



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, Explicit Language, M/M, Snapchat, ugly snapbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3282218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acemockingjay/pseuds/acemockingjay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/giwp/pseuds/giwp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean's a famous viner and Marco's out trying to forget about exams that are months away. One sex-capade by the Springles later, they find eachother equally bored</p><p>Choose your ending option. <br/>Read chapters 1,2 and 3 OR 1,2, and 4</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the middle of class and then I pulled out a piece of paper and the day just vanished. I hope you like kinda douchebag!Jean and tumblr!Marco

It takes Marco about thirty minutes of wandering around the crowded grounds before he finds any sort of leeway between the distance of his body to the nearest person. It’s as though the band had decided to ensure that the venue called for the entire audience to be packed like sardines. At some point he’s had friends flanked on either side of him as a barrier to the unknown but at some point they’d gotten lost in the crowd – the sea of never-ending people.

Coming to the fairgrounds in the dead of night on his only free Saturday of the next three months before finals week and ending up wandering alone hadn’t been the plan but there he is. Standing next to a trashcan with a three feet breathing room, where all he could really breathe in was the smell of moldy beer cups and rotting trash, scrolling through social media feeds. The concert itself had ended a while ago and he prayed to every god out there that he and his friends would be leaving soon but the crowd hadn’t shown any signs of dispersing any time soon and in no way was he about to go searching for where Sash and Connie had decided to bone each other. He could be content, for now, with checking every snapchat story available for him to watch. Especially when most of them involved amazingly, hot viners and Youtube celebs with really cool life updates.

It was a shallow hobby, staring at the adventures other people went on through a 5 inch lens with no actual relationship with the person themselves, but it gave him something to do and generated the creators profit and Marco was a people pleaser. It had also been a far off dream of his to one day be one of those people that created content for people for entertainment but the realities of school and having to work to help support his family had been the rude awakening that brought him to scheduled finals and hours of studying. Tonight was meant to be a time to relax, as Sasha had screamed into his ear over the phone, and he was meant to forget about everything that bothered him. So for the sake of the online community and his friends, he’d tagged along and attempted to update anyone that would listen over his phone.

For now, he set about watching through minutes on minutes of hilarious content that left him chuckling quietly into his fist.

One of his favorites was further down the long list of strangers. K.Jean was his pseudo account name but by the time Marco had finished doing a bit of googling, he’d found out the guy’s real name – Jean Kirschtein. And oh boy was he Marco’s favorite. The guy was gorgeous. His tawny irises and two-toned undercut were flattering and although it was normally the butt of other Viner’s jokes (see Eren Jaeger aka TitanSmash) – it suited the guy and his personality. Or, at least, the personality he showed behind a camera.

The guy was funny. His jokes usually a little vulgar or rougher on the edges never meant to disrupt or stir shit up with anyone. They were dumb jokes essentially and no one ever became offended. Most people in turn had started, over Tumblr, calling him the foil to Thomas Sanders but even that was taken as a compliment to his personality and “angry muffinhead” became the normal tag that even he’d approved of over every social media he cared to check.

He wanted to make content and that’s what he did, a dream that Marco wished he’d been able to take. The fact that it had landed him a sweet deal in entertainment had been a happy surprise to everyone who appreciated his material.

Marco was just about to open his snapchat story, an account he and others had somehow managed to follow and gain a follow back on probably was one of his better, nicer days, when a notification popped up on the corner of his phone. Even with the roar of speakers still playing songs straight into his ears, the vibration had startled Marco and he nearly fumbled his phone into the dirt before catching it swiftly mid-air. He read the text and sighed to himself for all the hassle that it was worth.

It was a picture message from Connie nearly eating Sasha’s face off and Marco wondered why the hell he would send it as a text where the offending thing automatically saved onto his phone and not as a five second affair when a message soon followed. Marco groaned at his screen again.

“Give me like 20 minutes.”

“What the hell had those two been doing for the last thirty minutes?” he muttered to himself.

Deciding retribution was as sweet as can be in this situation, he pulled up snapchat again because no way was he ever falling for sending actual picture messages to the evil Springles monsters again. A photo in return of a photo was how the game would be played and he needed it to look like he was having way more fun than the two of them banging in a dirty restroom.

Seeing as how a trashcan as a picture mate wasn’t the most appealing thing to take a selfie with, Marco decided to roam a bit more to find the perfect place. He ended up somehow crammed between heated, sweaty bodies again where everyone was interest in a body to grind into. It took a little bit of struggling and shaking his head in response to some of the lewd suggestions thrown his way across numerous people or whispered drunkenly into his ear before he finally made it close enough to the stage to get a decent-looking shot.

Turning his back to the crowd of messy bodies, trying to make this a quick affair, he aimed the front-facing camera behind him and centered himself near the bottom. Quickly taking the snap and clutching the phone to his chest in fear of dropping the thing through sweaty hands, he quickly punched in the recipients’ names – KConnieS, K.Jean and PotatoSash – and hit send.

What?

K.Jean?

“Hold on that’s not right. That little red box shouldn’t be-”

“FUCK!”

In a blur of panic Marco quickly closes out of the app, all intentions of scrolling through miles of posts and looking at snapchats gone from his head as he stuffs the thing into his pocket. The thoughts flying through his head were definitely arbitrary. What does it matter if he accidentally sent a snap to the guy? It’s not like he’s likely to even open the damn thing. He probably gets a million of them on the daily from horny girls looking for their own slice of fame. Dating the blond would probably be amazing. Being the guy would be life-changing.

Marco turns around and finds himself held behind a wall of people way to wasted to notice any sort of distress etched on his face. In retrospect, he’s thankful for being ignored but also tired and upset over not having someone to console him over his tiny mistake.

Resigning himself to the fact the wall doesn’t seem to have any cracks for him to slip between without risking more whispered confessions from drunk college kids, Marco edges himself against the bodies and the walls of the stage towards the opening in the fencing where steps lead up onto the stage. Sliding in and finding no threat of getting kicked out for loitering, he steps up and plops down on the cleaner of the steps, burying his face into his lap.

The vibration of his phone calls him back from the pits of regret and Marco digs back into his pocked for it. The corner of his darkened screen blinks yellow and his stomach fills up with inexplicable butterflies as he unlicks the screed and slides the notification bar down. There’s no way Connie would drag his ass during the middle of-yeah-to respond to a stupid snapchat and the app’s notification flows in the dark field and Marco’s ears shit out the shouts from the writhing bodies and loud, pumping music as he stares at the name.

“K.Jean has sent a snap”

He doesn’t even give himself the time to panic again as he clicks the bar, opening the snapchat within the second. The red box next to his name is no longer an outline of viewed pictures and seeing it filled with a new message waiting to be opened fills Marco with apprehension. This guy is essentially a famous a celebrity and here is, sending replies to snapchats to a lonely boy sitting by himself waiting for his friends to get laid. Taking the plunge, Marco finally opens the snap and stares down at his screen, cheeks turning pink at the face looking back at him.

He turns a sickly shade of pink to green when he realizes what he’s looking back at. It’s definitely the Jean Kirschtein everyone knows. His blond hair styled and sticking out of a floral snapback and blinding smile thanking Marco for sitting down in the first place as his legs turn to jelly. He seems to be alone as well or at least none of his usual friends are found loitering the background and that’s when the reality hits him again, no longer distracted by Jean’s face. It’s the place surrounding him and the caption that gets the butterflies really fluttering inside of him. The crowd behind him resembling that of the mob of people in front of Marco now and the distant sign for the bathrooms and concession stand the same as the one across the field from where Marco’s still sitting. He’s here. He’s at this stupid event with Marco. Well not _with_ Marco but in the vicinity of Marco enough to make his choke on his own spit. And then there’s the caption that could blow away anybody when coming from a stranger.

“Trost Festival?! Where U AT THO??”

Where is Marco? He’s drowning in the overwhelming fact that Jean is talking indirectly yet directly at him. He’s probably bored like Marco and had decided to open the snap on a whim but whatever the intentions had been, they involved Marco and Marco was on the brink of passing out from excitement. Or maybe it was the nerves again. He swipes the main menu screen to the right as the message disappears. Had the thing been a full ten seconds long? Okay holy shit!

Swiping across Jean’s pseudonym, the front-facing camera pops through showing Marco’s face riddled with nervous lines across his forehead, his eyebrows drawn together in anxiety. He’s going to reply even if it kills him. There’s a chance that Jean may actually be interested in talking to him and the chance to meet the guy was not going to get away from him. He had praises to give and questions to ask.

He takes the picture, empty stage behind him, and manages a small smile at the last minute to hide his anxiousness. Deeming it a well enough picture, he types out a quick caption to accompany it.

“Loitering the stage’s steps :P”

He throws his fingers across the send button and sticks the phone between his palms and back between high thighs waiting for that familiar buzz to bring out the swirls in his chest again.

It takes only a few minutes for the reply to come and Marco stares at his phone, more sure about opening the message but still as anxious. He holds his thumb against the touch screen and stares at a picture of himself sitting on the steps by himself, a worried look across his face. The caption reads “You look comfy” and brings a squeal and the flush of red back to his cheeks and he claps his hands – phone included – back across his face and glances around the people, less congested together but still as loud and drunk. His eyes roam from face to face and flicks back down back to his phone in confusion. Jean took his picture. He’s seen Marco looking pathetic and there’s no immediate reaction to the revelation other than the face that he’s embarrassed as hell. Marco knows he probably looks insane, brown eyes wild and searching, eyebrows furrowed in permanent confusion and apprehension. If he’s seen him where the heck did he go?

Marco’s phone buzzes again and he automatically opens the snapchat. It’s from Jean and it’s another picture of Marco – from a different, much closer, angle this time. In the pic, Marco’s flinging his head around and embarrassment fills him again threatening to overflow out of his body over the existing anxiety and throwing up onto the stage’s steps.

The words, “Can you see me now? :D” stares back at him for all but ten seconds.

Always the jokester. Falling in to play the game, Marco shakes his head, both to clear his thoughts and knowing Jean is watching at this point from wherever he’s hiding. He slides the screen and takes a quick picture of the crowd in front of him and types out his thoughts/

“I can barely see the people ten yards away!”

Sending the message, Marco settles back into his seat. He can do this. Jean’s just like any other person looking for someone to talk to and Marco appreciated being the focus on his attention even if it could be far short-lived and end at any point in this exchange.

The reply vibrates in his palm and Marco sighs in relief and immediately turns to blanching at his screen.

The picture is much, much closer and of Marco smiling to himself – to the unnoticing crowd. And it projects itself up at him with the most nerve-wracking caption anyone could ever expect.

“They’re missing out on a nice smile.”

Marco can feel his ears and cheeks blazing as his hands sweat up a storm. He reaches back with one arm and rubs at his neck and tries to cool himself down before someone notices his internal panicking. The picture was taken so close to him and Jean could not see him like this. He’s about to stand up and make the trip himself to find out Jean’s hiding place until a pair of old red Chucks plant themselves in front of Marco’s scuffed up boots.

“Hi.” The voice smooth and Marco finds himself wondering what high-havened angel created such a warm tone that could sound so amazing even when sloshed by the cheap beer he can smell coming from the guy in front of him. And so he does the only thing that come to him.

“Holy shit!!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> yes I heard all of your yelling about me cutting the first chapter where I did
> 
>  
> 
> [Jean's weakness](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_z0BHsyN54)

It wasn’t something he’d ever thought himself doing. He never thought he’d ever be in this situation. Never. I mean living in Trost usually led to the distant run ins with a couple well-known individuals seeing as how it was the entertainment capital of the country but close encounters of the Vining kind was like an abrupt wakeup call and Marco felt like he’d just been doused in ice cold water from head to the sweaty toes in his shoes. Everything was dripping and yes _everything_. How the fuck could someone be so hot. And hot in god’s hell could that someone deem him, Marco Bodt, worthy of their attention.

The look on the blonde’s face – the way his eyes light up against the shine of the strobe lights mixing with the stadium’s own violent lights that were beyond better than anything he’d seen on a small screen and the tiny quirk of his lips to the side as he smirks down at Marco – it’s all so overwhelming. Not only his presence but the fact that he seems to be talking and the lilt in his voice is soothing and relaxing around the pumping of the bass in the music. Wait. Shit he’s talking to him.

“-and you looked friendly enough so here I am Freckles!” he ends his apparent rambling, cheeks dusted a light shade of pink that hides itself well but not well-enough in the night. He – Jean – smiles down at Marco, one eyebrow lifted and Marco’s hit with the realization that the guy is expecting a response.

He blanches for a second, mouth erupting in stuttered syllables and maybe the slight signs of a line of drool forming. With a quick cough (see excessive coughing fit) to clear his throat, he smiles sympathetically up at Jean. “I’m sorry. I just-I just totally spaced out and didn’t hear anything you said.”

There are some people with voices that sound like sending a fork down a garbage disposal and slipping the switch then there are the ones that you grow to love and that soothes or calms your entire being as you sit and listen to them expand into a river of words. Their laughs usually end on similar descriptions – you can either live with it or you despise the tone of it all and want an out. With Jean, his laugh is the feeling of all momentum losing focus as it turns Marco over and over without moving him at all. It’s throaty and sharp but in no way could Marco ever think of it as anything less than beautiful. The way he slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes closing under the thin, translucent skin stretching across them leave Marco glued to the edge of the step, heart racing for not good reason. He’s so fucked oh my god. The sounds of the music barely even register anymore over the sound of Jean’s crass laugh and the pumping of blood is way too loud in his own body to make out much after that.

“Didn’t think of you as the airhead type. You look like more of the ‘I should be at home studying’ type of guy,” he chuckles. Marco nods his head mechanically, like in some voodoo trance under the blonde’s gaze. “So does Mr. Freckles have a name or am I meant to just refer to you as Freckles or-” he reached for his back pocket and after a quick flick through his phones he smirks out “-Polobodt? Cute username by the way. Really suits you.”

Despite the heat already radiating from his face, Marco feels it all flush itself out across his entire upper body as the word play through his mind over and over. “Cute.” He muffles the little whimper that threatens to leave his lips as he opens his mouth. “I don’t know if ‘cute’ is the right work but thanks. And it-it’s Marco I guess.”

“You guess it’s Marco? So there’s a slight chance that you’re name isn’t Marco at all?”

“No-no my name is Marco. I’m just nervous I don’t know. You make me nervous.”

Jean’s face falls slightly, eyebrows furrowing in thought before he speaks. “I make you nervous. Why do I make you nervous? I mean how?”

“Because you ask so many damn questions. I-I really don’t know,” Marco drops his entirely too hot face into his hands on his lap. “You’re just you and how the hell am I supposed to act normal when I’ve seen all of your vines like five times at least.”

He can feel the heat of a body sidling itself next to him, shoulder touching shoulder, before Marco even looks up but the sudden presence of Jean’s lean figure leaning towards him sends a jolt through him that shoots him forward almost onto the other’s lap on reaction. Scrambling away quickly, Marco stares down at Jean. He’s slightly shorter than him, Marco realizes, and the slouch in Jean’s spine makes it more obvious when he’s sat so close to Marco who can’t seem to understand the concept of releasing tension. He sits as stiff as a board with a stick up his ass as he stares into tawny eyes that make the nerves in his back crawl under the gaze he receives back. He relaxes just the slightest bit.

“So I’m guess you’re a fan then?” Jean asks.

“Yeah, kinda. But if you ask my friends they – well just don’t ask my friends. They’re embarrassing enough without having to embarrass me.”

“Okay. So then you expect I’m gonna stick around to see these friends of yours, huh? That’s pretty presumptuous of you, Marco. But does that entail we’ll be doing something until them?”

Marco’s eyes widen as his jaw drops and stares at Jean. Jean’s smirk hasn’t left his face and, oh my god, he knows exactly what he’s doing to Marco. The little shit. “I’m not assuming anything. Just sitting here getting harassed by someone who has leverage over pretty much the entire population here and who I _know_ thinks he can get away with it. No need to assume at all.”

It’s Jean’s turn to turn his expression upside down, jaw dropping as he quirks his eyebrow in surprise. Marco tries to keep cool and relaxed as he waits for Jean to quip back at him but the interval of quiet space lengthens as Jean continues staring back, wonder in his eyes directed towards Marco, that makes the brown-haired boy worry that he overstepped a line he hadn’t seen and Jean was going to bolt before he could give an apology.

He can feel himself shrinking back into himself under his strong gaze and Jean seems to pick up on it as well as he quickly shuts his mouth and smiles.

“You’re funny. I think I will stay here and keep ‘harassing’ you. At least until my friends stop being idiots and I can finally drive all their drunk asses home.”

“You drove here?”

“Someone’s gotta be the DD,” Jean responds. He turns his head away, towards the still crowded dance space as he talks. “It’s a boring job, but I hate drinking in such public places anyway so it’s whatever.”

“Yeah, same. The DD part and the drinking bit. Never saw the appeal of running around fairgrounds drunk off my ass. And yes to the question you asked before. I’d much rather be at home studying for finals that are still months away but my friends were pretty adamant about me coming out to have ‘fun’. But I’m thinking it was just a way to get out of staying sober while the other got wasted so they basically used me as their voluntary puppet.”

“Well that’s a perky way of putting out the fact that you’re usually boring as hell.”

“I do not put out,” Marco quips back immediately. He catches himself and quieter than before he says, “and-and I’m not boring as hell thank you very much.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m not. I can be very fun even when I’m sober. You don’t need drugs or alcohol to have a good time.”

“Of course you don’t,” he says smiling back at Marco.

Marco realizes at that moment he’d managed to keep his eyes on Jean as Jean spoke to him, head turned away and looking out at the people still grinding against each other without any hesitation or weirdness had from either of them. It was cohesive and for a moment it felt familiar like everything had clicked into place as they sat in the cool breeze of the summer night under clear skies that opened itself to a plethora of constellations.

Jean’s voice brings Marco back down from his thoughts and it’s like being slammed against the wall where the sting of cement against his spine doesn’t register over Jean’s voice so close to his face. “All you need is good company and I think I’ve done something right tonight.”

Marco laughs to himself, head tilting forward as his hand reaches back to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well aren’t you a bit of a flirt tonight.”

Jean’s eyes look back out at the sea of people but the sight of them pulsing as one is nothing compared to seeing the smile stretch across Jean’s lips as he smiles to himself and loses himself slightly watching and listening to the thrum of the music. And Marco is left to do is drown himself in the little fluttering of stars exploding and creating new galaxies in their little space of the universe.

Jean glances back at Marco and with a glint in his eyes, he stands up and plants himself in front of Marco who’s left staring back up at him in surprise – his eyebrows up into his hairline. “Come on” he says reaching a hand out towards Marco. “We’re dancing.”

“Excuse me” Marco chirps out louder and higher than he’d expected his voice to go.

“Dancing. This stupid song with the whole ‘Stuff on a Feeling’ nonsense is like my biggest fucking weakness and I’ve got no interest in making through that monster by myself,” he says, pointing back towards the crowd behind them.

“Um. Well I just-”

“Lemme guess? You don’t dance? Well I don’t think that really is gonna matter in this lot don’t you think?”

“You ask a lot of questions, ya know that?”

“And so do you. Now let’s go.” He grabs Marco’s hand and with a stronger than expected pull Marco’s on his feet again and being yanked towards the crowd.

“Jean-”

The blond turns himself on his heels fast enough to catch Marco off guard making him body slam into his arms that catch him from tripping over his own shoes. Arms locks around Marco, now surrounded by the little sea of people, earnest tawny eyes sear its way into Marco’s face “Yes?”

His voice stutters for a second too long but his words finally come to him after a second too long spent staring into the glowing reflections of lights in bright, light brown eyes. “Sure. Uh- let’s go.”

The smile that glows bright in the dark night shines and everything feels so right. Being tugged at by the sleeves of his jacket and the feeling of landing footsteps that follow the line of path of the lean body in front of him Marco smiles back, a secret held behind the blond head of hair bobbing through the crows. It grows under the knowledge that a stupid social media app with strings attached couldn’t compare to the feeling of the open air around a stuffy atmosphere and being surrounded by everything and nothing all at once. But the urge is still there.

Marco slides his phone out of his pocket, the cool of the metal and plastic in his warm hands chilling him as he slides a finger across the screen to unlock it. He opens the app swiftly – always at the top of the home page and an easy one-handed press of a finger away. Hands still connected to the blonde’s in front of him a quick yank halts their movements.

Jean turns back to him, eyes questioning as his body gets pushed around by the others around him and Marco pulls back at him again, drawing him closer to his own body – away from the others. He nearly trips into his arms but he’s there. Jean is there – under the thumping of the speakers – near his body and Marco’s so glad he listened to Sasha’s advice. He pulls his arm around him and for one blood-pumping, drastic motion, Marco brings him closer without any hesitation. Jean doesn’t resist for a second and Marco takes that as a yes and with a crash of lips meeting together the light of a camera flash comes and goes, forgotten under the rush of their surroundings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER YOU HAVE 2 CHOICES. CONTINUE ON TO CHAPTER 3 AND END IT THERE OR SKIP TO CHAPTER 4 FOR A MORE HAPPIER ENDING. Nick and I had planned to give this option long ago but mine just came a while later because of midterms. 
> 
> You guys were really adamant about making me write a sequel so I did the thing. A really badly written, last minute thing. BUT don't leave because there's another surprise that I'll add to this thing soonish so keep your eyes open. 
> 
> Thank you to whoever recommended this fic to that tumblr and blew this thing so out of proportion. But I guess you got what you wanted lol
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is god's work and you don't have to read it but I mean...who doesn't like their OTP getting fucked over??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's only been like 2 days....
> 
> THIS CHAPTER IS PART OF A CHOOSE YOUR ENDING DEAL. IF YOU WANT HAPPIER FUN TIME, I FINALLY GOT AROUND TO WRITING IT AND IT CAN BE FOUND IN CHAPTER 4
> 
> WARNING: I didn't write this chapter. [Sir Nicholas](http://acemockingjay.tumblr.com/) did so if you wanna gripe and moan about it please go ahead. His ask is open and he's prepared for it. I honestly love it and you can blame me for egging him on but I will forever laugh at how this all turned out.

Marco’s pulse is racing from either the thumping music or the kiss with Jean – or maybe both – he isn’t sure. His brain is going haywire, sending messages to run, to blush, to kiss him again. He decides on the latter and leans in to Jean’s slightly taller build. Jean’s lips taste like a combination of chips and something minty. It’s weird, but Marco doesn’t care. Being here with someone like Jean was way more than Marco ever anticipated for the evening.

Just as Marco comes up for breath he realizes what an opportunity he has. _Sasha and Connie would freak if they knew,_ he thinks to himself. Fumbling with, and almost dropping, his phone he opens Snapchat and angles the camera. Jean is all for it, leaning in extra close and giving a wink to the camera. Just as Marco takes the picture he gives Jean a peck on the cheek so Sasha and Connie will know he means business. Looking over at Jean, he realizes the blond is blushing and not doing a very good job at hiding it. “Jean,” he asks. “Are you okay?”

Jean becomes aware of his demeanor and shakes it off, back to a cool and collected smirk. “Yeah, Freckles, I’m fine,” he stutters.

Marco isn’t convinced, but Jean’s really cute when he’s embarrassed so Marco doesn’t push the issue. Someone bumps into him and spills some of their beer on his shirt. “Oh, excuse me, I’m sorry,” Marco stammers. The guy just yells something unintelligible and walks away.

Jean’s face hardens. He pulls the guy around and yells, “Hey, don’t be a dick! You better apologize to him or I’ll take that beer bottle and find a nice spot for it up your-”

“Okay, man, okay. I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to ruin your boyfriend’s shirt.” With that, the guy turns and walks off.

“Hey, he’s not- I mean, we’re not- I mean-,” Jean yells at the man, cheeks reddening deeper by the second.

“Jean, hey, it’s alright. I’m fine,” Marco assures him. “Let’s just go get cleaned up.” Marco looks around and starts for the restrooms when he remembers that Sasha and Connie are in there and probably on round two by now. Remembering the dynamic duo, he checks his Snapchat. Surely enough, there’s a snap waiting for him from Connie which shows Sasha in a light Marco never wanted to see with the caption, “YO IS THAT K.JEAN? GET IT MARCO!”

Jean looks over Marco’s shoulder and recoils at the sight he was never meant to see. “Nice friends ya got there, Freckles,” he laughs.

“Yeah, that’s Sasha and Connie. They’re boning in one of the stalls right now so we should probably avoid the bathrooms.”

“Agreed.” Jean looks around, “Hey, there’s some woods over there. You can get out of that shirt and I’ll let you wear my jacket.”

“Jean Kirschtein, is this just a ploy to get me undressed?”

“Depends, is it going to work?”

Marco laughs and flirts back, “we’ll see.”

Jean takes Marco’s sweaty hand in his and pulls him towards the tree line. There’s a howl and Marco stops short.

“What’s the matter? Afraid the wolves are gonna get ya, Marco?” Jean flashes a smile and Marco’s worries melt. When they reach the trees, Jean stops. He takes off the black jacket he’s wearing and throws it at Marco’s head. Marco takes off his shirt and gets his revenge while Jean laughs, knocking off his snapback.

“Hey! No fair,” Jean whines.

“Uh oh,” Marco mocks. “Did I hurt the poor baby?”

Jean’s face reddens again. “Shut up, Freckles.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Marco adds a wink to throw him off. He doesn’t know where this confidence is coming from, but he likes it.

If it were possible for Jean to blush harder, he would. “Alright, I will.” He steps towards Marco and Marco in turn steps back, against the base of a tree.

“What are you-, “ Marco’s question is cut short with Jean’s lips. Jean kisses him first roughly, and then eases off a bit. Now Marco is the one blushing. He puts his arms around Jean’s neck so he can get a better hold and kisses him back. Marco’s head is filled with all the cliché fireworks you’d expect from kissing a hot boy like Jean and his heart is racing once again.

Now things are getting serious. Kissing him harder than before, Jean picks up Marco – he must lift in his spare time or something – and pushes him back against the tree. Marco runs his hands through Jean’s hair and his breathing gets heavier. Nothing could ruin this moment for him.

Jean abruptly stops and puts Marco down. “What’s wrong?” Marco breathes.

“Shh, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” If he’s honest with himself, Marco hadn’t been paying much attention to anything other than Jean’s lips for the last several minutes.

“I thought I heard something back in there,” Jean motions to back further in the woods where it’s difficult for Marco to see. “I’m gonna go check it out.”

Marco grabs Jean’s arm. “What? No, you idiot, we should just head back.”

Jean pulls away and starts deeper into the woods, “I’m curious, I want to know what’s in there.”

Sighing, Marco let’s go and follows him in, “Fine, I’m coming too.”

The two boys follow the rustling leaves in the distance. As they move closer in, Marco looks behind him and realizes they’ve walked further than he thought.

“Jean, hey maybe we should-,“ Marco is cut short by a growl from ahead. He turns back around and what he sees makes the blood drain from his face; a small pack of wolves is snarling at them.

“Oh shit,” whispers Jean. “Please, for the love of god, don’t move.”

Marco easily complies and grips Jean’s hand tighter. Sweat is pouring down his back and he can see that Jean is shaking. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,_ he thinks to himself, _this is how it ends._ He tries not to panic and realizes that his left pant leg is now warm and wet.

Jean tries to take a step back in hopes of sneaking away, when the first wolf pounces. It strikes Jean in the chest, sending him to the forest floor and Marco down behind him. Jean lets out a scream and tries to fight the wolf off. The rest of the pack takes this as a sign to follow and one tackles Marco as well. Five wolves in all descend upon them, Marco knows nothing but fear and pain. He feels claws across his chest, his back, his face. He wishes they would just finish him off already. He can hear Jean’s cries of fear and pain, but he knows he can’t help him; he can’t even help himself right now. He feels one of the beasts tearing at his right arm and is vaguely aware of Jean screaming his name. He’s gone into shock now and can only feel a dull throbbing in his shoulder. Jean somehow manages to get to his feet and Marco can at least see that he is bleeding profusely and is limping. He watches as Jean turns and tries to run. Jean doesn’t run for help, however, but runs deeper into the forest. Marco is worried and afraid at jean leaving him but then realizes what’s happening. _He’s trying to lure them away._ Surely enough, all five of the wolves turn and follow jean, howling into the night.

Marco is alone now, he tries to turn his head to the left and notices something isn’t right. Where his right arm should be is only a pool of his own blood. He tries to move his legs, his other arm, even tries to take in a bigger breath, but he can’t. He’s too weak. As he lies there, accepting his fate, he hears Jean’s distant screams that eventually die out. He knows what’s happened and he knows it’s his turn next. He hopes he’ll just bleed out before the wolves come back. Marco’s vision is darkening and the last thing he can think of before he closes his eyes is Jean’s face in that first snap and the smirk on his face. Marco’s eye flutter shut and he breathes once more before the darkness overtakes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so sorry. But also this was a hella fun collaboration and we're kinda not. :-)
> 
> EDIT: I've written a fluffy epilogue for you but I still love Nick's ending just saying
> 
> [Nick](http://acemockingjay.tumblr.com/) aka "The Mood Killer 2"  
> [my tumblr](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Text Messages and Black Doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally wrote that fluffy ending you guys wanted. My hand's are now forever off of this fic as I should really start focusing on school and my other projects. 
> 
> I'm assuming you're here because chapter 3 was not what you wanted but it's still up as an alternate ending for all of those morbid souls out there (I know I love it). This chapter is really just pure fluff and of course I end it the way I end all of my oneshots. If you don't know what I mean then you're gonna have to find out. I mean this thing was supposed to end after chapter 1. Anyway..
> 
> Enjoy!

The sound of the heavy bass rumbles through Marco’s body and the smell of everything around him filters in through his nose as he stares down at the screen for all of two seconds before the sound of sweet, melodramatic words register into his space. Jean is still on him, leaning into his entire body with his own lean form as Marco smiles quietly down at the open app in front of him.

“Marco c’mon man. We need to dance before our friends realize that we’re totally not where they left us.”

Marco nods his head as his fingers swiftly glides across the plastic and metal and he turns his head just the slightest to shoot a toothy grin at Jean. He notices his eyebrows are furrowed and he giggles, like legit giggles in giddy emotions, at the sight of him upset over Marco’s slight deterrence on the their mission. Jean nudges his head like a puppy into Marco’s shoulder as he tries to hide the obvious redness fluttering up his body and turning the tips of his ears pink and Marco goes back to finishing up before he upsets the blond in any actual way.

Hitting the small send arrow at the bottom of the screen, the flash of the slightly blurry picture travels off into digital space with the small message to “take your time” attached to it. Sasha and Connie would have a riot about the whole situation and he wasn’t going to let the chance escape the record books as he made sure to hit the save button before even sending. But according to an impatient little blond, Marco’s taking way too long thumbing at his screen trying to exit out of the application and with a swift move of his hands, Marco finds his shiny android in slender, light-skinned fingers. “Hey – what are you doing?”

His hands automatically reach up to grab the phone back but a quick reactionary move and Jean’s hands shoot behind his back as he shakes his head. “You can have this back after we dance.” A second later, his hands stuff the phone down into his back pocket but Marco’s forgotten it all as the hands on his waist and warm breathe on his neck turn his mind to mush. Even without any blatant effects of alcohol, the intoxication Marco feels as he’s aware of himself being dragged deeper into the mess of heated, sweaty bodies.

The air is musty around them – the sweat on the bodies around him making it easier to glide past them as well as make the obvious grinding that more apparent. The stench of weed and beer and bad decisions lingers over the crowded lawn and the sobriety keeps Marco on his toes and aware as they walk through delirious couples unaware that they’re, in fact, not in a private space right now.

All to suddenly against Marco’s musings, Jean pulls to a halt in a certain square footage that allowed more movement that previously and he turns back around to face Marco, chin dangerously close to resting on the taller boy’s sternum. It doesn’t take any words from either to know where they need the other’s body. Their forms moving along, off of one another as they subconsciously move along to a beat that doesn’t match up to the song playing as much as the beat that they can feel through the layers of fabric covering their chests. It’s similar to breathing off of each other as they move cohesively, not giving a damn for the people that are still gyrating around them barely two feet away.

It’s a mess of limbs that Marco can feel all over him as well as his owns intertwining themselves with Jean’s. Touching each other anyway they could and savoring the small slices of skin that showed up when a shirt rode up their sliding bodies. The loud, earth-quaking boom from the speakers resound in the backs of their ears as all they focus on is the sounds of each other’s heavy breathes in their ears when the other got close enough to return any such favors. It was a good thing Marco didn’t have to worry about childhood asthma anymore because he doubted he would’ve made it off that small perimeter of groundout grass with his breathing resembling any sort of normalcy compared to the way Jean’s lean but obvious well-formed body seemed to handle the heat.

The thin layer of jackets that they’d both had on were getting to be too much as the heat between them rose over the course of the one song still playing and they both disentangled themselves just the slightest, still lost in the feeling of the other without moving as far as bringing their attention to the other’s face like how they wanted. Focus kept all along the bodies in front of them and Marco’s especially trained along the way that the shirt Jean had chosen to wear under his black, collared jacket was very well fitted – it’s sleeves the perfect length to grab Marco’s attention for longer than reasonable. They both tie the jackets off around their waists and Marco laughed for a second as he remembered his years in elementary school and the look in Jean’s eyes as they glint under the horrible ground lighting is of wonder and approval as he takes in Marco’s face.

Something seems to crack inside him and his thoughts about how Marco looks pretty good for a nerdy fanboy leave his head and he launches himself into the tall boy’s chest, dragging the freckled face down to meet his in a sloppy kiss. Their lips fumble together as they try to keep themselves locked without falling prey to the multitude of people pushing against them now. The slight tilt of their heads, noses brushing and the occasional teeth clanging against the other’s blur together as they swallow down any moans or breathes in the small space separating them that threaten to escape and vocalize in the night air.

They’re left standing there, Jean slowly grinding up and into Marco’s open thighs, lips still locked threatening asphyxiation as the crowd around them start to disperse towards the grass lots and towards the line of taxis and registered Uber vehicles across the way. They only seem to register the change in atmosphere when the music starts to dim around them and Marco feels the chill of the open air on his bare arms and in Jean who shivers slightly in his arms.

They realize that they’re very nearly alone on the floor as only around a hundred or so people still seem be lost in their own world and Jean quickly pulls at Marco’s hands that are intertwined in his. They make their way towards the edge of the grounds, close to the stage again as they both try to catch their breaths. Marco sits back down on the step he’d been at just half an hour ago and their breaths are still shallow and heavy as they stay there, silent but comfortable of the quiet. They’re only allowed the few moments where they only smile at each other, no words coherently forming enough to say them aloud, before they’re alerted of a few new stragglers tripping their way towards them.

Sasha and Connie stumble up, their eyes starstruck as they glance from a surprised Marco and a very confused Jean and they make it up to them close enough that they can hear each other over the people loitering around and Marco watches them stutter around for breath. Connie’s zipper very much still undone in his rush to find them, apparently.

“Holy shit, Connie!” comes Sasha’s high-pitched voice. “You were right! Jean fucking K is near my precious little Marco!!”

“Sasha! I’m neither precious nor little would you stop and take a breath for a second?” Marco shrieks back up at her, his cheeks flushing a bit at the unwarranted attention.

“MARCO! Please tell me you at least kissed the hunk of your dreams before we got here because if not than Connie and I can totally go on and get some of the leftover nachos and-”

“Sasha, no” Connie mutters to her. He grabs onto her hand and steers a little farther away from where she was sliding closer and closer to Jean. He hasn’t said much, mostly in shock over the loud rambling coming from Sasha and smirking at her insinuations. Marco’s now a very darker shade of pink and he covers his face in his hands as he slumps down even more in his seat on the steps of the stage.

“We actually did – Sasha, was it?” Jean laughs into his hand a bit before continuing. “Don’t worry, I kept your precious little Marco safe from the weirdos in the crowd.” He giggles a bit at the look Sasha has plastered over her face and the dumbstruck look on Connie’s before turning to sit down next to Marco.

Marco stiffens at the contact of their shoulders brushing but relaxes when Jean nudges him and directs his attention away from his relaxed face to Sasha’s that looks like she’s internally screaming and throwing a fit. Marco shoots her confused look a small smile and the excitement that he’d expected from her is shot out of her as she nods her head in approval. “Good,” she says, quietly. Her eyes bore into Marco, searching for something as they gleam and it’s almost nearing the awkward point when she decides she’s found what she’s been looking for and turns her attention back towards a smug-looking Jean. “Marco deserves only the best and if that’s you? Then good.”

Connie’s dumbstruck look swivels towards his girlfriend at that and he stares at her and back at Marco and Jean in turn as his brain tries to make sense of the situation over what’s obviously still a hard-on he’d stuffed into his pants. Sasha must’ve been the one to call it off over the chance to find Marco latched onto a sweaty Jean. They’d pulled on their jackets but it was apparent that the chill of the summer night wasn’t going to stay as comfortable as Jean shivered again next to Marco. “You cold?” he asks Jean. The blond nods his head slightly and is about to say something when Sasha’s voice rises up again. They turn their heads to the ashamed and slightly guilty look on her face. “Sasha?”

“I kinda forgot to mention this – well I purposely didn’t tell you – but we actually have shifts tomorrow morning at the café and we didn’t realize that it was getting towards 1 A.M. and that we should probably get going. I didn’t have any idea that you guys would hit it off so well but um…we need our ride home.” She trails off, her voice uncharacteristically small and quiet considering the amount of beer she’s drunk you can take a guess at with the smell rolling off of her. Both Connie and Sasha smell like they took a dunk in a pool of beer and the smell of malt and fermentation would explain their strongest personality traits shining through. Sasha was always the loud on and Connie would grow quiet and observant as he tried to sputter through words that could get him laid.

Marco huffs out a breath, finally having caught up his lungs to the rest of his body, and makes to stand, leaving Jean on the step in front of him. “And I’m guessing you didn’t tell me because I would’ve shot down the role of DD and made you two stay at home, right?” They nod their heads and Marco slumps his head down for a second. He lifts it to shoot a small grin that he hopes gives Jean enough to go by as he talks to him. “Sorry, Jean. I guess – well I guess I gotta go now. Um.” His voice drags out on the incoherent mumble and Jean stands up too, feet barely an inch from Marco’s as he looks up at the freckled boy.

“Tonight was great. I’m glad you came to be their DD.” He shifts on his feet and looks over Marco’s wide-set shoulders at the couple sheepishly watching them. “So thanks, I guess. If it wasn’t for you two dragging and then leaving this guy to fend his own, I never would’ve found him looking so grumpy on the steps.”

Marco slaps Jean’s shoulder playfully as he chuckles. “Hey! Says that guy that decided to approach a stranger that accidentally sent him an unoriginal-looking snapchat.”

“Yes. That would be me and I’m not gonna lie and say I regret it or anything so what’s your point?” He smirks up at him and Marco can feel himself drowning back down into him as he looks at him. The way his nose points out and sets into his dumb smile that compliment with the arches of his eyebrows that are multiple shades darker than the honey-like, tawny eyes looking up at him. Jean “Vine-extraordinaire” Kirschtein was looking up at him – an idiot college kid that was worried about the amount of reading he had to finish before the weekend ended.

His voice shakes the slightest as he smiles back down at Jean. The feeling of any kind of tension so expansive around them that they can’t seem to even discern it from the way the other looks just smiling at them and giving them more attention they deserved. “I have no idea but god you’re beautiful.”

Jean’s face pulls into a shocked look and Marco can see the tips of his ears turning red again and he finds them so endearing he doesn’t even realize that’s he’s held onto them and is rubbing soothing circles down Jean’s ears when he talks. “Yup. Still great.” He pulls his hands away and stuffs them into his pockets as he shrugs one shoulder and leans his head back towards the others. “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Hell yeah you will. I’ll see you soon. I should probably do and find Eren and everyone else anyway.”

Marco turns, smiling back at Jean as he grabs onto Sasha’s free hand and drags her stiff body towards the emptying parking lot. “Bye, Jean,” he shouts back and he hears the distant sound of a sputtered “bye, Marco” but he’s too far now, more people spreading out into the distance between them, to be able to hear it clearly. He turns back around and the three of them make headway towards the old, dented, rust-mobile when the sound of Jean’s voice bounces off the lawn’s entryway.

“Marco! Uh sorry but you kinda forgot your phone.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out Marco’s recently purchased phone and hands it off between them. Marco takes it, trying to keep his speeding heart rate level and unnoticeable as their hands slide against each other’s just the slightest.

“Thanks! Don’t know what I would’ve done without that.”

“Yeah.” Marco takes a beat to look around at them and notices the looks that Sasha and Connie are shooting in their direction as Jean openly attempts at making conversation. But after a while it seems he’s way too tired for his brain to even manage words as he mutters out, “Right well Eren has his boyfriend propped up against the stage, totally wasted, so I should probably head on out and take them home.”

Marco nods his head and tilts it as he smiles at him. “Cool. See you later, Jean.”

“Yeah. Bye. Again.” Jean chuckles awkwardly, his hand going up to rub circles at where his undercut meets the rim of his snapback and Marco giggle too watching the telltale sign of red ears as he walks backwards towards the general direction Sasha and Connie had wandered off to, waving his hands in farewell.

He finds his intoxicated friends by the car, leaning against the chipping grey paint and mumbling incoherent words to each other as he gets closer, keys in hand. They seem to hear the jingling of the metal and perk up immediately and Sasha steps forward as Marco unlocks the car and heads over to the driver’s side.

“So? Did you get your goodnight kiss? I dragged Connie away because I figured you probably deserved a bit of privacy considering it’s our fault you’re here.”

Marco chuckles, shaking his head as he dives into the driver’s seat. He waits for the sound of Sasha tumbling into the backseat and Connie heading up to take his place in the passenger seat – an arrangement that’s been set since high school their first time with Marco DDing. Settling his butt into the soft cushion that was twenty times better than the deteriorating wood of the stage’s step, Marco waits for Sasha to stop fidgeting with her off-kilter shirt before giving a half-assed riposte. “There wasn’t a goodnight kiss, no. And like Jean said,” his hand fumbles for the phone stuffed in his pocket as his voice tries to come out smoother than his fluttering heart feels. “Thanks for dragging my ass out of the apartment.” His voice trails off as he clicks open the lock screen. He’d meant to check the time as his hands automatically went to turning the car on to let it heat up before making the journey back towards the university, but instead found himself staring down at a new text message from a contact he didn’t recognize. “Snapback?”

Marco slides his fingers along the screen down to get to the notifications menu. The text’s preview shows there’s a picture attached and in a split second decision he decides to click the notification and a new text conversation pops up, a picture shining back up at him in the dark car. The picture is of him glaring at a giddy Sasha and Connie – his face a light shade of red from both embarrassment and from the effort of trying to hide a stupid smile. The text under the picture is what catches Marco’s eyes as his cheeks start to emulate those in the picture. “Cute?!”

 Sasha’s head pops up to rest against Marco’s shoulder and with a loud coo, she’s yelling into his ear a bunch of nonsense trying to get Connie to stay awake and listen to her. She’s garbling out a bunch of “you lucky son of a bitch” and variances of “you’re so getting into bed with pretty boy blond” before Marco gets her to quieten down as he locks his phones and belts himself in. “Sasha, shush.”

The little storm of a brunette turns to pester a sleepy Connie for a while as Marco takes his time to let the old car heat up fully. It’s a practiced game and getting stuck in the middle of the road at 1 A.M. was not anyone’s ideal situation.

His phone vibrates again in his lap, the tremor knocking him back into the car with Sasha yelling from the back about stopping at a Taco bell ten minutes out of the way. Grabbing the phone off his lap, he slides the conversation open again and finds a different staring up at him.

Eren’s eyes, one green and one golden, are staring up at him from the corner of the selfie, his face showing off a cheesy grin. The rest of the image is Jean, face pulled in annoyance as he reaches forward, towards the camera, mouth open and probably yelling obscenities. The caption reads, “Take one for the team snapchat. Make Jean less of a dick” and Marco chuckles to himself as he stares at the picture. A small blond is propped against Mikasa – who Marco recognizes from Eren’s social networks – and looks absolutely smashed and he figures that must be the boyfriend Jean was talking about Eren was with.

Another message rushes onto the screen and it’s apparent Jean’s managed to grabs reins on his phone. “Marco! Ignore Eren he’s an ass”. Marco laughs and the way that it echoes in a quiet car alerts him that it’s way too silent. He turns and finds Connie slumped onto the window gently snoring. Behind him, Sasha, buckled into the middle seat, is flopped over her chest – her seatbelt digging into her cheek – as her mouth falls open in loud snores.

He lets the phone sit in the cup holder between him and Connie and Marco starts the drive back to their place with the soft hum of the shitty pop station playing over the usual pings and vibrations interrupting the drone of some old Katy Perry song from high school days. He mouths along to the song and the following five other old hits before they finally make it to the perimeters of the University town.

Grabbing his phone off the center console he starts the process of shaking his friends awake. They murmur and groan their annoyance and discomfort against their belts and Marco reminds them of the warmish bed waiting for them upstairs if they hurry and get the hell out of his car. Their bodies stumble but soon enough they make it through the small hallway leading to the staircase that takes them up to the fourth floor home. Unlocking the big black door the building was apparently so famously known for because of its ‘designer’ appeal, he immediately pushes the half-drunk, half-delirious, bodies down towards the hall that leads to their bedrooms. They hobbles over, teetering on wobbly feet as Sasha makes straight for their room while Connie beelines it for the bathroom.

Ignoring both of them, too exhausted to care about how loud Connie’s pee flow through the cracked door is, Marco slumps into his own room and falls backwards onto his unmade bed littered with class notes, kicking the door with all the energy he can muster. His phone digs into his ass and he rolls to his side and haphazardly slips it out of his pocket and palms at the dark screen as it vibrates sharply in his hand telling hi there are old notifications that need to be read. Sliding it open, the screen still open to Jean – aka Snapback’s – number and Marco smiles at the multitude of snapshots from the last 25 minutes he’d spent driving.

-          Eren and his half-sister Mikasa who only lets the smallest smile crack her super serious exterior (it must be the alcohol)

-          A picture of Jean driving a car with incredible interior aesthetics flipping the bird with the hand on the wheel while his right hand reaches out at Eren. His face irritated but you could tell he didn’t find it as annoying as he could’ve

-          Jean carrying a smaller than he’d expected blond that was beyond intoxicated through glass doors and passing mail boxes that looked familiar. His hands, laced around the boy’s back and thigh, still flipping off the camera

It’s the final picture that gets Marco sitting up in his seat, opening up the image in a new light, zooming in and out trying to figure it out. It’s of Jean. He’s bent over his knees trying to grab what must be his keys off the floor without dropping Armin, but even that is too off the focus of the phone’s camera and isn’t what’s got Marco breathing raggedly. It’s the blurry background of Mikasa in the back hiding a laugh or yawn behind an open hand leaning against the wall by the door. A large black door. She’s standing next to a dark green and silver number plate similar to the scratched at one Connie tapped on for good luck during exam season. The numbers were blurry but the etchings of “3-something-something” in a familiar font stuck out over the way Jean’s back looked as he bent over to pick up his keys with a boy basically in his lap.

The distant sounds of clatter from the apartment below their own – a sound he’d gotten used to since they’d moved in at the start of the semester – echoed up into Marco’s ears and he essentially launched himself out of bed, a new surge of energy pulsing through him, slipping his boots back on, shouting something about being right back as he booked it out of the room. His voice trailed in the silence as Sasha and Connie looked at each other in confusion in the dark making out the one phrase Marco was repeating as he rushed out.

“Holy shit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that's read this fic and has supported it with the sweet comments and kudos and shares. It's really meant a lot and I never thought that some dumb au that I wrote during class would get so much love. I plan on continuing this whole writing thing so look out for updates and new oneshots. 
> 
> Please if you want to keep up the creepy and morbid, check out my fic [Repenting for Someone Else's Sins](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3146726). It's like my little investment and I love receiving comments on how I should better my writing 
> 
>  
> 
> [Nick](http://acemockingjay.tumblr.com/)  
> [my tumblr](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> I probably won't add more to this fic but you never know
> 
> edit: I might've been convinced but we'll see if i change my mind again
> 
> [tumblr](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/)


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